Wedding of the year
by vanhunks
Summary: J/C Part one: There's a wedding on board the good ship Voyager and Chakotay is the unwilling "it"!


WEDDING OF THE YEAR  
  
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Janeway and Chakotay and Voyager.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Summary: There is a wedding on board the good ship Voyager and Chakotay is it.  
  
*  
  
There was a hush in the observation lounge. It was occasionally punctuated by a cough, a sound like someone snickering. Once, Tuvok looked imperiously in the direction of the snicker and it stopped instantly. Then he turned to face the couple in front of him.  
  
" - Commander Chakotay, do you take this woman - "  
  
"Captain Janeway - "  
  
" - Captain Janeway as your lawfully wedded wife?"  
  
Chakotay pursed his lips as he looked at Tuvok. He was convinced Tuvok was an incarnation of the Laughing Cavalier without the laugh. The area around Tuvok's lips twitched, and if he weren't showing it to the rest of the smirking crew, Chakotay was certain that Tuvok was laughing at him. He didn't want to look at Kathryn; he didn't want to look at anyone. What was he? A lamb led to the slaughter? That must be it, he thought. Barely an hour ago he was accosted in his quarters, ordered to dress up in dress uniform and marched out of his quarters by...  
  
"I asked you a question, Commander - "  
  
"Wha - ? Ouch!"  
  
Chakotay doubled over; when he straightened up he saw Kathryn through pain- filled eyes. The little spitfire - why was he suddenly reminded of a World War II plane? - had just rammed the barrel of her compressor phaser rifle into his side.  
  
"You're going to answer the magistrate, Commander?" she asked bitingly.  
  
Magistrate?  
  
Chakotay winced as the rifle crushed his ribs again. Kathryn looked...beautiful - her lips were red and her eyes smouldered a little. He wanted to kiss her to death even though he was brought to the altar unwillingly, but his aching ribs reminded him that he had to say something.  
  
He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. He heard the snickering of the crew. Wasn't Tuvok going to rebuke them again with just a look? They were enjoying themselves at his expense. Kathryn was having the time of her life. How did he get here, in the observation lounge which only two days ago was the venue for a memorial service for the fallen of Voyager the past seven years?  
  
"The lady is waiting, Commander..."  
  
The rifle jabbed him once more. He doubled over.  
  
"Well?"  
  
Oh, hell.  
  
Chakotay's thoughts slipped to the day the events were set in motion...  
  
****  
  
"We're not in a command structure here, Chakotay. Call me Kathryn."  
  
How could he? She had been his commanding officer for two years and for two years he used her rank. It was always good to call her Captain; no, it was better for his peace of mind and his equilibrium to call her Captain. That way he could put the distance between them required so he didn't make a fool of himself falling over himself and at her feet kissing her dainty boots and all. Then he'd be like every man on board who wanted to kiss the Captain's feet, and that included Tom Paris.  
  
No, it was too early, too New Earth early.  
  
"Let me take a rain check, okay...Captain?"  
  
He saw how she pursed her lips, how her eyes flashed and imagined that she stomped those dainty feet in the ground.  
  
After that they got along and became great friends but he kept calling her 'Captain' and she kept giving him dirty looks whenever he did so. If he looked a trifle longer, the dirty look would become a hurt look, but he had closed himself off from all that. That's what he thought. Who was he kidding? He slept in his alcove dreaming night after night of making love with her. What was holding him back?  
  
He was Maquis, that's what. Dirty, low-down renegade traitor who was not worthy of kissing the Captain's feet. She was too good for him, that's what. Queen that she was... Spitfire queen...  
  
Some nights he lay awake the entire night and listened - he could actually hear her breathing - to her sleeping, even though he could swear by the spirits that Kathryn Janeway was the quietest sleeper anywhere.  
  
Then one day he called her Kathryn. It was the day after the storm. She stood outside the shelter and the after-rain-sunshine dropped kisses in her hair. She was beautiful. He had trouble breathing again. But Kathryn also looked lost. She looked lonely. She looked like she needed him. Her eyes had that doe-like appearance that made her not-Captain, but Kathryn. Suddenly, she was not a spitfire queen anymore, but just a tired woman who fought too hard to get them off New Earth. She said something - how could he remember clearly what she said or how she said it? - about having to make her home on New Earth. It was in the way her shoulders drooped that made his heart burn with love for her.  
  
What could he do? He pulled her to him - very gently, he remembered - and gave her a hug. He said, "Kathryn, don't worry. I'm here for you..."  
  
His resolve, carefully manicured over more than two years to cure himself from falling all over her and making a fool of himself, cracked at last. He was renegade no more. He was a man with a mission to give solace to the woman he loved. Kathryn's eyes had begun to fill with tears and he had never seen her cry before. Hell, he had seen her angry and he preferred seeing her angry. But that day Kathryn turned his heart to mush. She knew she had him, the little spitfire. He was certain there was a gloating smile - if there ever could be such a thing as a gloating smile - gracing her lips that in the moment as she looked up at him, begged dangerously to be kissed.  
  
Yes, she knew she had him.  
  
The next morning, he was still there for her, in her alcove and in her bed. The only thing he remembered when he woke up was the feeling of being ravaged by the same storm that almost destroyed their shelter. When did Kathryn turn into such a cat that clawed and scratched long furrows all over his back? Slowly images came back and he remembered the night. There was softness and moistness and warmth and loving. He lost himself, called her name over and over the whole night. And Kathryn kept asking him why he waited so long.  
  
Waited so long? It was a good thing he never told her about being afraid to come near her or he'd lose it altogether and smother her with love. It was a good thing he never told her she was too good for him. It was a good thing he didn't tell her he wanted to keep some parameters in place just so he could breathe again like a normal man was supposed to when near the woman who turned his world upside down. She did so by just looking at him with those eyes and pout with those lips and raising that eyebrow that made him insane with pent-up need for her.  
  
So when he woke up the morning, surprised to find himself in her bed and quietly astonished at what he had done during the night, he rose from the warm depths of Kathryn's arms, careful not to wake her.  
  
She found him later that morning at the river.  
  
Like he was thinking, he always did prefer seeing Kathryn angry.  
  
"I don't think we should continue this, Captain," he said in a pithy attempt at explaining. "It was an - an aberration..."  
  
Kathryn almost, almost hit him with the axe she was carrying. Was the lethal weapon something that was on her mind during the two hour trip to the river? Did she just grab the thing as she walked past the woodpile of the shelter? He could never quite figure it out.  
  
"You call what happened last night an aberration, Chakotay?" He wanted to curl up somewhere and die. Kathryn had walked up to him, dropped the axe and rose to press warm lips against his. Her breath was hot and altogether too...intoxicating. When he could breathe again, Kathryn's eyes shot white hot sparks. "An aberration, Chakotay?"  
  
So he joined her in her bed every night until the day Voyager returned for them. On that day, he said, "Captain, we cannot continue with this when we're back on the ship."  
  
Kathryn's body stiffened. He wanted to eat her up. Why was he such a big jerk? He hurt her. The hurt look was back in her eyes as soon as the anger was gone. He had become used to seeing her in a blue dress, in sandals, in nighties, in nothing. Now she stood before him, coldly beautiful in her uniform. That wrapped it up for him.  
  
They were back to being Captain and First Officer.  
  
"You want to negate everything that happened here?" she asked, incredulous at his resolve.  
  
They were going to be back on Voyager, back in uniform and she'd be back to being the Queen whom he couldn't touch. He was a renegade again, true-blue traitor to the Federation with no hope that Kathryn could ever make things permanent between them. Maybe he should have asked, fool that he was.  
  
"We're a command team, Captain. I...can't let...things get in the way..." he replied, knowing how each word sounded like a death-knell.  
  
And just before they beamed up to Voyager, Kathryn turned to face him.  
  
"You mark my words, Chakotay. The day will come that you're going to say yes to me, even if I have to hold a gun to your head..."  
  
Kathryn's words - when she could collect herself to speak after he dropped his bombshell - rang in his ears long after Kathryn ordered Tom Paris to plot a course for home. 


End file.
